


Spag Bol

by Molespeople



Category: Man Up
Genre: Cooking, F/M, Fluff, Spaghetti Bolognese - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5362337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molespeople/pseuds/Molespeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Jack and the Spag Bol-Off of 2016</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jack's flat is actually quite nice. It is quite impressive how any remnants of a woman's touch have been eradicated with a vengeance. It reeks of bachelorhood and curry takeout and Nancy is not in a particular hurry to change that. She is dreadfully jealous of his hideous but extremely comfortable sofa. 

"So do you actually like Spag Bol or was that a lie too?" 

Nancy debates if she can just asphyxiate herself with the overly stuffed sofa cushions. Instead, she closes her laptop. "Why would I lie about pasta?"

Jack throws an apron around his neck. "Sound good for supper?"

Nancy glances at the time on the telly. "Yeah, but not for tonight." 

Jack pauses tying his apron strings. "Why?"

"Because it's nearly half past eight and I would like to eat tonight." 

Jack shrugs. "It will take 30 minutes." 

"You can't make Spaghetti Bolognese in 30 minutes." 

Jack looks at her with that squinty face that he gets when he's trying to tell if the milk has gone off. "Really?" 

"Well, you can," Nancy concedes, "But it's not going to be good." 

"Oh? And you're the Spag Bol expert now?" 

Nancy clasps her hands together. "If you think you can make a decent Spag Bol in 30 minutes then I guess I am." 

"Oh, we'll see about that." 

"I guess we will." 

And that's how the Spag Bol-Off of 2016 started.


	2. A Little Privacy, Please?

The date of the Spag Bol-Off had been decided in the span of an evening, Jack and Nancy had taken turns casually proposing dates and then consulting their respective calendars on their mobiles. It had taken some time to decide on a date, which Nancy had thought was strange. Somehow they could find the time to binge watch Hannibal, but finding the hours to make a spaghetti bolognese was another matter. 

Nancy peers over her computer and surreptitiously observes the office. Someone had the bright idea to use glass as the sole partition in the office. Though Nancy had to admit that emphasizing aesthetics while sacrificing practicality fit right in line with the company's ideals. How is she expected to research the best recipe for bolognese for the Bol-Off tomorrow if she has to close her browser at every hint of activity in the vicinity of her office? Her abrasively young coworkers were oddly fascinated with her every moment, their curiosity whipped into a frenzy by her lack of a Facebook and the accompanying statuses documenting the minutiae of her life.

Nancy sighs and collects her purse and coat. Sensing her movement, heads start to pop up from behind computer monitors and it's honestly like something from a nature programme.

One of Nancy's particularly abrasively young and _cool_ coworkers leans out from her desk. It's not that Nancy dislikes Emma, but if she decided to come to work dressed in over-sized sweaters and leggings, all her coworkers would think that she would have resigned herself to being single forever. Emma manages to pull it off and look cute. "Everything copacetic, Nancy?" 

Nancy pauses and smiles widely as she turns to face Emma. "I just thought I would pop out for some lunch." 

Emma arches an eyebrow. "It's a little early, isn't it?" 

"Well, you know," Nancy says, looking around, "Sometimes you're just that hungry." She grabs her stomach. "Grr, so hungry." 

Emma's eyes widen and she leans closer. "Are you pregnant?" Emma sounds horrified. 

Nancy looks around for witnesses to this insanity. Nancy feels like her spine has been replaced with a mixture of cement and awkwardness. "No. Nope. Negativo." 

Emma winks. "Well, it's early yet. You're barely showing! Your secret is safe with me."

"Oh, yeah?" Nancy has no idea why that sounded like a question. 

Emma nods understandingly. " Definitely. At my age, the thought of having a baby? It's just hilarious and horrifying, of course. But you know, I could imagine at your age, you start thinking differently. Is your boyfriend, John, pleased?"

Nancy nods. Maybe if she just agrees with Emma this nightmare might be over.

"Oh, that's good. Yes, that's good indeed." Emma nods sagely. "You wouldn't want to be a 40-year-old single mum. Do you think John is going to propose?"

Nancy grimaces and a horribly awkward noise emerges from her misbegotten maw. It sounds vaguely like "Here's hoping" if she decided to run it through a paper shredder. She crosses her fingers.

"Oh, that's just lovely. I'll be looking through Pinterest for you."

"Right. Thanks for that. I'm just going to get lunch now." Nancy ducks her head, resolute on reaching the door without further interruption and conspiracy theories about her personal life.

"We're here for you, Nancy!" Emma decides to shout across the office.

Nancy manages to wrangle her fingers into a thumbs up position as she breaks free from her nosy millennial oppressors. 

\----------------------------------------

Nancy casually enters the bookshop. She tries to exude the aura that she is definitely here to buy a book. It helps that it's Waterstones and she can walk around without the guilt of depriving a small business owner of a sale, but Nancy admittedly feels a bit naughty. She finds the cookbook section and her intended target, Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, is in position. She pulls the book off the shelf and flips through the pages just keeping it cas'. She finds the recipe for the bolognese sauce and pulls her mobile out of her bag. Nancy knows that she gets competitive, especially with Jack, but she's not feeling thirty quid competitive. She takes a picture of the recipe and it seems like the loudest fake shutter noise that has ever existed.

And of course at that moment an employee walks by carrying a stack of books. "Can I help you find anything?" 

Nancy jumps and her mobile goes sliding about on the shelf like a slippery fish. Flustered, Nancy answers a little too quickly. "I don't really read." She manages to grab her phone and throw it in her bag before turning on her heel and walking out of the store. Nancy swears she can feel the weight of the employee's gaze. 

You know how you make a concentrated effort to walk naturally and you end up waddling about like a constipated duck, Nancy felt like that exiting the bookshop. 

She grabs a sandwich on her way back to work. And a slice of pizza. And a hamburger. She's eating for herself and her non-existent fetus after all.


	3. What's a Little Wee Among Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The competitors are preparing for Spag Bol-Off 2016. It looks like Jack is still stuck at the grocery store, but Nancy is hitting her own delays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hien is the best. Hien is my co-pilot in this matter. Thanks, Hien!

Jack looks at his shopping list and then at the shelves of Waitrose. "Come on, Jack. You can do this," he mutters to himself. He looks at his shopping list. "You're not going to let some measly Peppadew peppers get you down."

Jack's dilemma is postponed when his mobile starts vibrating in his pocket. When Jack pulls it out, fumbling with his basket full of pork shoulder, chicken livers and beef, he sees that Blue Bits is calling. Jack spends a moment to smile at the picture of Nancy before answering. "Hello, Nancy. Are you prepared to eat dirt? Except, you know, it's not dirt. It's spaghetti bolognese and it's going to be tasty."

" _I think you were right the first time, Jack_."

"Har-Dee-Bloody-Ha." Jack looks around before he decides that this aisle is as good as any. "So, what are you doing? What are you wearing?" Jack asks as he distractedly searches the shelves. What does a Peppadew even look like? 

" _Just making the winning Spag Bol and doing a load of wash in the meanwhile. And for your informacion, I'm wearing an apron_." 

Jack looks around the aisle for possible eavesdroppers. "Only an apron?" 

" _That would be terribly unhygienic. I am also, some might say regrettably, wearing knickers. Slash and Axl are getting quite the show._ " 

Jack pauses for a moment to stare appreciating at the screen before replying. "Is that so? Are you really only wearing knickers and an apron?" Jack has the feeling that he's grinning like a lunatic.

" _You'll have to come over and find out_." 

Jack resists the urge to giggle excitedly. "I believe that was the plan."

" _What time do you think the Spag Bol-Off is going to begin_?" 

Jack squints at his watch and winces. "Well, since I'm still doing the shopping."

" _Mm. So I will have time to go to France after all_."

"Oh, at the very least. Be sure to bring me back a croissant." 

" _Right-O, Daddy-O_."

"Before you start packing your bags, sweetheart, can you tell me where I could find Peppadew peppers?"

" _That's going in your bolognese? No, never mind. What aisle are you in_?" 

Jack twists around in the aisle, his satchel gently bumping against his shopping basket. "There seems to be a lot of nuts." 

" _Including you, bada-ba_." 

"Oh, good one." 

" _Thank you. Thank you. I just couldn't let that one slide, Jack_." 

"You know, I think I would respect you just a little less if you had." Jack readjusts his shopping basket so the blood can flow to his hand again. 

" _Look for the olives. It should be near those_." 

"I believe I can do that." 

" _I'll see you tonight. I'll be waiting with a beret on. Love you_." 

Jack cradles his mobile in his hand. "I love you too." Jack moves to put his mobile back in his pocket before thinking better of it. "Let's see what these suckers look like."

\---------

Nancy pauses in her kitchen, surveys the veg prepped for the sauce and sighs. She scrubs her face with her hands, removes her apron revealing her sushi pyjamas. She really can't get her mind off the other thing she purchased while she was doing the shopping. 

Slash and Axl follow her, disappointed that food hasn't materialized during her foray into the kitchen. They sit patiently on her bed as Nancy stands in front of the mirror, her eyes lingering on the stretch of skin that meets her waistband. Does she look pregnant? Theoretically, it's entirely possible. They'd even had a whole month-long conversation about pregnancy and exclusivity and sexually transmitted infections before they'd decided to "Fuck contraception." But that had been almost six months ago. She was only a day or so "late" but her monthly visitor, so to speak, was always a bit laissez-faire. Nancy frowns and grumpily pulls on a sweater, finally obscuring her stomach from view. 

She walks back into her kitchen, her hands tangled in her hair, as she surveys what needs to be put away so Slash and Axl don't sabotage her bolognese prep. 

\-------------

When Nancy shows up on Elaine's doorstep unannounced, it speaks to their sisterly bond that there's not an iota of surprise on her face. 

When Nancy asks, "Do I look pregnant?", Elaine's response is only a slight wince before moving to the side to let Nancy pass.

"Did you bring a test with you, Nancy?" Elaine calls as she heads into the kitchen. "I'm just going to put the kettle on."

Nancy flaps her arm ineffectually as she follows Elaine into the kitchen. Elaine arches an eyebrow. "I'm just going to take that as a yes." Her sister crosses her arms. "Do you need to go?" 

Nancy cocks her head, confused. "I just got here?" 

"To the loo." 

"Oh, right. I'll just go do that." 

To say the least, the whole process is horribly awkward. There's a lot of fumbling and wee. She drops the first test in the toilet. 

Elaine had admonished her for her less than flawless pregnancy test execution. "For Pete's sake. Here's a cup. Wee in this. Then stick the test in the cup." 

"Oh, it's not exactly a skill I've had many opportunities to perfect," Nancy had retorted. Then she had looked at the proffered cup, a mug really, a little confused. "Are you sure Daniel won't mind?" 

"It's shite and I've been asking him to get rid of it for ages."

Nancy had merely shrugged. The mug works out better. The second test proclaims that she's pregnant. "Fucking Emma," Nancy had muttered seeing the word 'Pregnant' displayed in the tiny window. Nancy isn't upset, she feels distantly happy, but she is slightly overwhelmed. Once Elaine had stopped screeching loudly and Nancy’s ears had stopped ringing, Nancy had asked, "What do I do now?" 

Elaine had only crossed her arms. "It is your body, Nancy." 

"No, I mean with the test. Do I just throw it away? Frame it?" 

"Some people like to wrap it up and give it like a gift." 

"Really? Who would want a stick that I've weed on?" 

Elaine shrugs. "Jack?" 

"I think we've established that Jack is a weirdo." 

"Yeah, sweetie, but he's your type of weirdo. You guys are still doing that weird spaghetti bolognese competition, aren't you?" 

Nancy had felt something like pride or indigestion flush through her. "Why, yes. Yes, we are."


	4. And the Winner is.....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They eat spaghetti bolognese.

Nancy manages to compose herself by the time she returns to her flat. The test ends up in the trash - where things that have been weed on belong. She does take a picture of the test with her mobile because Elaine refuses to let her leave otherwise. There is definitely something magical about the sight of the plastic stick nestled in between discarded tea bags and crisp packets. When she gets to the apartment, she makes it work. The ingredients make their way into the pot and her flat begins to smell divine. 

"Slash, Axl, your mummy is going to destroy Jack with this spag bol."

Nancy would like to think thather cats believe in her at the very least. She knows when she samples her meat sauce that she's going to be the victor. She's mentally prepared to win, Nancy is not going to play the pregnancy card. When Jack arrives at the flat, a pot of sauce in the nook of one arm and a bottle of red wine in the other, Nancy knows she's going to have a problem. It might be hormones, it might just be because Jack is just the cutest goofball, but she nearly bursts into tears. She manages to manufacture an excuse for her face to be in the fridge. The cold feels wonderful against her face. Jack looks a little startled with her behaviour but he presses a kiss against her temple. "Hey, you feeling okay?" 

Nancy nods, mutely, and tries to smile, but if she smiles too much, the tears threaten to fall. It's a strange balancing act because she is so happy. "Just feeling a bit weepy." 

"My spag bol has made lesser beings weep." 

Nancy laughs and even that sounds like a sob. Jack flashes her another worried look. Jesus, Nancy, get it together. Jack works on arranging his spaghetti on a plate and Nancy starts to do the same. If she focuses on the spag bol, maybe she won't end the night in tears. She has to admit that Jack's sauce smells really good, if wildly different than hers. This might be a close one. 

"Did you find the Peppadew peppers all right?"

"Right by the olives," Jack says, nodding his head, "Just like you said." God, Jack has such a great smile. 

"Good. Good. Did I tell you what happened at the book shop?" 

\-------

Jack bursts into laughter. "You told him, you don't really read much." 

Nancy nods. "Right after I nearly propelled my mobile into outerspace. Yeah, I don't really read much," she adds laughing. 

Jack shakes his head. "Amazing. Well, I do believe that you earned this glass of wine, milady." He removes the cork and pours her a healthy amount. 

Nancy takes a sip reflexively before she abruptly places the wineglass on the table. She turns away towards the stove, clapping her hands. "Let's get this show on the table, so to speak." 

"If you say so," Jack counters, carrying the glasses of wine to the table. 

She places her spag bol on the table and then returns for Jack's. In the end, there's four servings of spaghetti bolognese between them. She tries hers and it's good. It's really good. It tastes buttery and warm and she could eat this velvety meat concoction all day. Happily. Then she tries Jack's and her jaw nearly drops. The moan of deep and utter satisfaction erupts out of her mouth like a volcano. "Oh, god, Jack. This is so good." 

Jack looks up from her plate of spaghetti bolognese. A small portion of spaghetti, dangles near his lips. "I thought mine was good. Yours is amazing." He takes a sip  
of his wine and then looks at her suspiciously full glass of wine. "Gosh, you're making me feel like a bit of a lush." 

Nancy looks at her glass and raises it. "I guess I just have to catch up." 

Jack shakes his head and laughs a little bit. It sounds like a tender, vulnerable thing. "You're acting like you're pregnant or something?" 

And Nancy can only find herself bobbing her head like one of those demented bobbleheads. Jack begins to nod as well. So they're sitting at the table with four plates  
of bolognese, nodding at each other like a bunch of twats. 

Jack pauses. "Wait, seriously?" 

And Nancy is apparently speechless and can only keep nodding. But Jack's whole face transforms like a kid watching Star Wars for the first time.

Nancy shows him her trashbin pregnancy test and the Spag Bol-Off gets forgotten for the next hour or two. 

When her stomach starts rumbling later while they're laying in bed, Jack hops up immediately and heads into the kitchen. He returns with two plates of spaghetti bolognese - one of each. Jack pauses in the doorway, posing like a bodybuilder with the plates of bolognese. "Your vote, Milady?" 

Nancy pulls the covers up to her chin and contemplates her cravings. "Honestly? I fancy yours." 

Jack puffs his chest out. "Really? You know, it does have -" 

"Nope. Nope. You can't share the secrets of the trade," she says, gesturing for a plate.

Jack shrugs, handing her the requested plate. "Just as well. I really fancy yours. What did you put on this?" 

Nancy shrugs. "Butter, sugar, a little bit of meth." 

Jack nods. "Yeah, yeah. You can definitely taste the meth." 

And Nancy just laughs. 

In the years to come, Nancy makes her bolognese for Jack and Jack makes his bolognese for Nancy. Just like they had joked on that first stolen date, it really does depend on the spag bol.

It is a really good spag bol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to thank my friend Hien. Man Up is a super cute movie and I'm glad I was lucky enough that my friend saw it and enjoyed it as well. 
> 
> Thanks, Hien!


End file.
